friendship

C.S Lewis got it right: friendship is born when one person says to another: "What! You too? I thought I was the only one!"

Autumn's Rose
Simon had always loved fall. The sound of the bristling wind against the leaves that surrounded the cemetery ground, reminded him of that. Taking him away from the soreness he felt in his chest. He could hear the words coming from the priest, yet they did not elicit any reaction from him. His friend was gone. No words would bring him back.
By Oumar Diagne6 years ago in Humans
The Legend of Carla B. Jones
Carla B. Jones was ninety-three when she died. She was ninety-two when I met her, and I admit at first she didn’t seem like a woman of much consequence. But that’s my fault.
By Zachariah Putter6 years ago in Humans
Closed Doors, Open Windows
Dios mío, ¿qué haré ahora? What am I going to do? Luna turned and looked up into his dark glistening eyes and felt her heart constrict. In had taken 5 years to get him to crack a grin and now 12 to spring a tear. Her own face was streaked with sweat, grime and sadness. They had fought the good fight, but the dream was done. No amount of repositioning of tables, creation of covered, heated outdoor spaces, mountains of biodegradable eco-friendly to-go packaging could bring back the comradery, compañerismo, that had patrons once tagging the Bean Pub as the best Coffee Bar in the Northwest. They tried it all, yet the bills finally outweighed the efforts. One by one, she had looked into the eyes of her best friends, her family, and told them their livelihood was dissolving into fear and uncertainty.
By Kim Solis6 years ago in Humans
Old Dead Gods
“Mr. Sanders!” you shout, banging on the door. “Mr. Sanders I’ve got lunch!” You hold up the bag to face height in front of the door as if the door itself is going to pass on the message that yes, you do in fact have lunch. A plastic bag with some cheap Chinese from around the corner. You bang on the door some more. Usually Tuesday night is Chinese, you watch Jeopardy with the old man and eat on his 1950’s style TV dinner trays. Not last night though, you had a date.
By Jacob Allen6 years ago in Humans
The Manuscript of Irene Summers
There’s a certain euphoria in discovering something new in yourself. Something unique. Your painting came out leagues better than your classmates’—why, look at that. Maybe you ran the fastest mile in the entire school. Extraordinary. Let’s unpack that. Let’s explore. Sign up for art lessons. Get a gym membership. Stand out. Compete. Make something of yourself.
By Danielle C6 years ago in Humans
Butterflies
I work as a physical therapist in a skilled nursing facility with the elderly. The past year was hard on healthcare workers, but it’s been just as difficult for our patients. They are dealing with failing health, emotional pain and isolation. Many are laid at our doorstep by their own family. Frequently patients tell me relatives no longer answer their phone calls. They are viewed as being slow and an inconvenience; a nuisance to a culture that is afraid of facing their own mortality. It’s not an easy work environment. Often I journal my thoughts in my little black notebook or grow things in my garden to escape.
By Catherine Fielding6 years ago in Humans
A Life Well Lived
Jules brushed his hands roughly across the front of his jeans and pulled the cuffs down over his weathered brown loafers. With a small dollop of hair tonic, he ran his fingers back through an unruly thatch of wavy brown hair. He straightened his collar, peering in the mirror with furrowed brow, not feeling convincingly presentable. The rumble of the garbage truck on the street below signaled that it was time to head out, or risk missing the Q bus. Standing with one hand in his pocket and the other gripping the rail above, he gazed out of the window as the city came to life with the ambient noise of car horns and sirens and the indistinguishable chatter of fellow passengers. He struggled to find even a modicum of enthusiasm to push his way towards the door as the bus approached his stop. That journalism degree is certainly paying off, he thought, twisting one side of his mouth up into an indifferent grin. Being a copy editor wasn't very exciting, but it was a start. Having left the tranquility of Northern Kentucky to work in Manhattan after college, it didn't take long for the reverie of big city life to evaporate, leaving only the crushing reality of student loan debt and a growing distaste for ramen noodles. He shared a flat in Queens with a Macedonian expat and a nightclub promoter who frequently interrupted his slumber by burgeoning through the door at 3am, often accompanied by friends in various states of inebriation.
By Gary Weldon6 years ago in Humans
shine
The iconic visuals of my city are the sky needle and misty grey skies. Emerald green pine forests stepping into the dark tumultuous sea. We have some famous exports: grunge, glass art, Jimi Hendrix, and Kurt Cobain. You probably think of a few different things when I say Seattle, like big computer companies or bad coffee with too much sugar. My late mom falls into the latter category, best known for two hit singles in the 80’s and late 90’s, both saccharine sweet and unoriginal much like the coffee.
By Tyler Pletzer6 years ago in Humans
Little Black Book
Hi, I'm a 15-year-old boy named Bentley, and I'm on my way to meet up with the others at the skate park. Parker comes riding by on his skateboard. He’s my cousin, and my best friend. We’re more than halfway there when we see the bloody red sky coming up.
By sydney piper vageline6 years ago in Humans
My Neighbor, Mr. Richardson
The day Mr. Richardson’s daughter died was one of the last few warm days of summer– one of those brilliantly long, sunny days which slowly bleed into a cool evening. It was not the sort of day befitting to death. The sleepy inertia of August was finally wearing off with school just around the corner, red and yellow blots appearing on maple leaves, and signs for pumpkin-flavored drinks popping up in small coffee joints around Seattle.
By Kailey6 years ago in Humans
"A Friend"
It is the 15th of April, 2001. Yet another excruciating Indian summer afternoon, even mercury is ready to escape its container. With the brazen summer winds blowing across the deserted streets, Dr. Rashid Khan, a new resident of Gaya(a small town in eastern India in the state of Bihar) is idling in his study trying to endure the soaring temperatures.
By Tanumaya tiwari6 years ago in Humans
Shane on the Range
Shane on the Range Shane jumped quickly as she woke up from her bad dream. It had to be a dream because Justin was just here at home three weeks ago. She heard her sisters whisper among themselves trying not to wake her. Then, she remembered, it was no dream, and Justin was never coming home again.
By REGINA HARPER6 years ago in Humans